Three's A Crowd
by LaLainaJ
Summary: After a long, hard winter, a party leaves base camp to hunt. The trip does not go smoothly. Bellamy and Clarke must work together to save another, and manage to straighten a few things out between them. Bellamy's known what he wants for awhile now, Clarke's coming onboard.


Authors Notes: Hello, gentle readers. I apologize to anyone who's waiting on the next part of Love Your Enemies. I sat down last night to work on it, and I had nothing. So I went to peruse the List of Fanfiction Kinks, Tropes and Clichés on with the intent to bang out a random drabble to hopefully break my block. Instead, this monstrosity occurred. It's pretty cracktastic, with some glaring plot holes. The 'huddling together for warmth' trope works beautifully for this fandom and others have already used it so I thought I'd twist it a little. Insert Miller, because I love him. I have more of it written, but I don't know if I have the balls to post it. I've never really posted smut before! Please tell me what you think! Also, I'm lalainajanes on tumblr, if anyone wants to send me prompts.

**Three's A Crowd**

"There," Bellamy panted. He stumbled and Clarke's shoulder scraped against the rocks on her right as she struggled with the weight of Miller's body between them. "I'll check it out," he said.

"No, I'll check it out. I can't hold him." Clarke slipped out from beneath Miller's limp arm and made sure that Bellamy had a secure hold.

"Be careful. Knife out."

It was a testament to how far that their relationship had come that she listened to him without complaint. Clarke was willful, like her mother, and obstinate like her father. She'd never been great at following orders, even back on the Ark.

Clarke took slow steps into the cave. She wasn't the praying kind, but a quick mental, 'please, please, be empty' ran through her mind anyway. Before coming to earth Clarke had occasionally heard the saying 'hindsight is 20/20.' She'd thought that she'd understood it, because it seemed like such a simple concept. Before earth, however, she'd never faced the kind of decisions that cropped up with an alarming frequency here on the ground. Down here Clarke made choices and judgement calls, she offered opinions that carried weight. Her thoughts and actions could mean the difference between life and death. She'd chosen wrong, a time or two, and lived with the consequences.

Right now, creeping into a cave with Miller and Bellamy outside, chased by worsening weather, Clarke could acknowledge that a she'd made a few bad calls today, and hope for a break or two from anyone who happened to be listening. On the bright side, while Miller wasn't looking so great, he probably wasn't going to die, so long as they got him warmed up, and soon. The warming up part, well that was the down side, where things were going to get sticky. Miller was soaking wet and unconscious. And Bellamy, was fully conscious, but about as irritable as a hungry wolf. Bellamy had been cursing Miller, and everything Miller loved (creatively, and with great feeling) ever since he'd fished Miller out of the stream and helped Clarke to drag his unresponsive form for half a mile to this cave. Bellamy tended to focus on the most pressing concerns so perhaps he hadn't thought too far ahead, but Clarke had. They'd need to warm Miller and Bellamy would not be pleased when he realized the most expedient way. And so Clarke was thinking back on the questionable choices that she'd made today, there were at least three, and all the alternatives that would have allowed her to avoid her current predicament.

First, she could have sent Octavia out with the hunting party. Clarke had spent most of the winter passing on as much of her medical training as possible to the other girl. It hadn't gone well, at first. Octavia's anger and disgust towards her brother, and towards Clarke, after they had beaten the Grounder had been immense. But the winter had been hard, more people had died, and Octavia's belief system had been tempered. Octavia genuinely wanted to learn to heal and Clarke had been the one to teach her. Clarke had gained her respect back, little by little, stitch by stitch, with late nights tending to the sick and fingers chapped from packing snow into wounds. They were friends now, and shared many of the duties that Clarke had initially borne alone. They took turns going outside the walls with the hunting and scavenging groups, and Clarke had volunteered for this one.

A party of five had started the day. Bellamy and Miller, two of the better hunters in the group, in the lead. The two rarely went out together, but the meal prep group had let Bellamy and Clarke know that they were hitting the bottom of the camp's stores of dried meat, so an exception was made. Monroe and Jasper had been left to mind the delinquents at base camp, and Fox and Connor had been roped into the hunting party. Clarke had packed up her field med bag, and met them at the gate.

She actually really enjoyed going out with the hunters. They were quiet, out of necessity so sometimes she managed to tune them out and pretend that she was alone. The novelty of trees and unfiltered air, all the sounds and smells of earth, had yet to wear off especially with the changes brought on by the encroaching spring. Clarke had learned to walk quietly, but otherwise her hunting skills were pretty nil. She'd been taught, along with most everyone else, to look for signs of animals, and pick up trails, but she just didn't have the knack for it. So she tagged along and stayed out of the way. And observed. And maybe enjoyed the views, of the landscape and of the people, a little more than she would have been willing to admit.

Bellamy was good at hunting. Clarke liked to watch the way he moved, the way his hands twitched. Lately she'd been drawing them, sometimes on their own, sometimes entwined with another pair of hands, paler and with slender fingers. She'd become familiar with what those hands felt like, the drag of his callouses on her arms, on the nape of her neck, as Bellamy touched her pretty freely these days. They'd been dancing around something for weeks now, after she'd noticed that his touches were no longer always practical. In the beginning he'd only touched her when he was guiding or protecting. Gradually he'd reached out to her with the intent to comfort. And now? Now he looked her in the eyes when he touched her, as he said things that, while not flowery or too overt, hinted that he was open to an escalation in their partnership.

She'd been incredibly oblivious, at first, so convinced that she and Bellamy weren't meant to be more than co-leaders of the remains of the 100 juvenile delinquents who were trying to survive on the ground. She just didn't think that he'd ever see her as more than one of the privileged that he'd so resented. He respected her abilities, her knowledge, but that had been hard won. So Clarke had responded to the warm looks and invasions of personal space with confused expressions and hasty retreats. It had been Octavia, of course, who had set her straight.

Clarke and Octavia had been holed up in the drop ship, replenishing the medical supplies, mixing poultices and powders, when Clarke had broached the subject. "I know Bellamy's your brother, O, but you'd tell me if I'd done something to piss him off, right?"

Octavia had eyed her in disbelief, "I wouldn't need to. He'd tell you himself. Loudly. Like he did yesterday when you pulled Monroe from guard rotation."

Clarke sniffed, "She's never going to heal if she doesn't rest for a few days."

"I know that and you know that. Hell, even Bellamy knows that. My point was that you and Bellamy aren't shy about your disagreements. You never have been."

Clarke sighed. She was well aware of that. The trust she and Bellamy had built was a blessing most of the time, but it also meant that they weren't afraid of conflict, "He's been weird, lately."

Octavia was suddenly very engrossed in the flowers she was mashing, "Weird, how?"

"He's just..." Clarke hesitated, suddenly aware that talking to Bellamy's sister about this was perhaps not the best idea, "always right there, you know? Looking at me. And smirky."

Octavia let out a strangled noise, half-laugh and half-snort. "Oh, god. Clarke. Really? Sometimes you're not the brightest."

"Hey!"

"He likes you. Duh."

"Well, we've spent a lot of time together these last few months..."

"Likes you, likes you. Is hot for your body, and your mind."

Clarke scoffed, "He's hot for a lot of bodies."

Octavia grimaced, "Not that I enjoy being aware of my brother's sex life, but I have it on good authority that he's been sleeping solo for quite some time."

Clarke thought back. She had walked into a pack of girls grumbling about Bellamy in the water tent last week. She hadn't paid much attention, at the time, but the tone of the conversation hadn't been friendly.

Octavia had lapsed into silence, perhaps content with knocking Clarke's worldview a little off kilter. After the early disaster with Finn, and the ensuing uncomfortable situation with Raven, Clarke had forced her hormones into the backseat.

Oh, she'd looked, a little. Men outnumbered women, at the camp, and many were not shy about stripping down to beat the heat when performing physical labor. Clarke was nothing if not practical, not to mention more versed in the workings of the human body than most. If she let her hormones and her imagination run a little wild, in the privacy of her own bed, that was her business alone. But she'd prioritized survival, over her baser needs. She'd been approached a few times, as her princess reputation had worn down, but hadn't accepted any of the offers which had come in. Some had been subtle (a walk to the butterfly fields) and others more blatant, ('you're tent must be cold...') but, as there were plenty of other girls, with less on their plates than Clarke, willing to indulge such offers, no one had walked away with any hurt feelings.

Armed with Octavia's words, and confident that the other girl knew her brother better than anyone, Clarke had weighed her interactions with Bellamy more carefully. It was then that she became more aware of the touching, of the heat of his body when it was inches from hers, of the speculative gleam in his gaze, as it occasionally centred on her lips.

And it was at this point that Bellamy became a more central figure in her nightly explorations. He'd popped in fairly regularly before. She was only human, and was neither stupid or blind to his appeal. She'd imagined how their fights would translate to sex. They didn't hold anything back, when they fought, and she bet they'd do the same if they were naked. She wondered if he'd take charge and kiss her to shut her up. She knew he didn't think of her as fragile, so he'd touch her like he meant it, because he'd know she could take it. She thought he'd like it if she turned the tables, held him down to take what she wanted from his body. She'd touched herself, imagined that her fingers were his, stroking her nipples, a hint of his teeth on her inner thigh, his tongue on her clit. She'd come, his face on the back of her eyelids, his name in the back of her throat, more often than not, before falling asleep.

She'd been a little embarrassed, in the harsh light of day, and had even avoided Bellamy, just a bit. But he'd sought her out, continued to get into her space. She knew, rationally, that there was no way he knew what went on in her mind. And she refused to be ashamed of doing something that was perfectly normal, and frankly was contributing to how well she was sleeping at night. Food was scarce, and the days were long so a sound sleep was welcome.

She stopped avoiding him, largely because she refused to let him win. So she'd changed course, and started to push back, just a little. She let her eyes linger, and made sure he was aware of it. She sat closer to him, by the fire. Started to sit on his bed, when the met in his tent, instead of on the improvised stool she'd always occupied before. Bellamy had noticed, of course. He was an observant man, and he knew her pretty well. The gleam in his eye had turned from speculative, to anticipatory, but still he did not make a move. Clarke thought that he was waiting for her to do it, and so they were stuck in limbo, a sexually charged recreation of their early power struggles.

One of them would crack, it was only a matter of time.

Earlier today, Bellamy had been leading the pack of hunters, followed by Fox. Clarke had taken up her customary spot in the middle, and both Connor and Miller were behind her. They hadn't been all that far from camp when Fox had taken a bad step, and turned her ankle. The girl had gone down with a cry, and Clarke had immediately checked her ankle and found it sprained. This led to the second choice that she now somewhat regretted. She'd sent Fox back with Connor with instructions to rest, elevate, and keep cool cloths on the ankle. She could have either gone back with Fox herself, or insisted that they all go back and either postpone the trip, or grab reinforcements. But no, she'd decided that the need for food was pressing, and Bellamy had seemed confident that he and Miller could handle it, and he did have more knowledge in this department than she. And so, the three of them had continued on.

They'd ranged farther than their usual hunting grounds (the third questionable choice) while still staying within the territorial boundaries they'd worked out with the Grounders. Peace between the two groups was tentative, but had held all winter, and neither she or Bellamy were willing to jeopardize it. Clarke had been watching the sky, had noted it was steadily darkening as the wind picked up, and was about to suggest they turn back before it was too late and they had to scramble for shelter. Before she was able to speak up Miller had spotted the deer they'd been tracking, and given chase. The terrain was less familiar and so he probably hadn't been expecting to step off an incline, crack his head on a rock, and roll down into a half frozen stream.

Bellamy had been behind Miller, and hadn't immediately realized what had happened. He'd managed to get the deer with a throw of his spear, but when he turned to Miller, probably to adjust the score in their ongoing competition (trash talk, Clarke had found, was a big part of hunting), he'd noticed the drop off in the ground and Miller's body at the bottom of it.

"Shit," she'd heard him bite out, and then he'd called for her, alarmed.

Clarke had rushed over. Bellamy's ability to become alarmed had decreased through the winter, as the causes for alarm had increased, so she took that tone seriously. He'd thrown his pack down and was unfurling the length of rope he carried with him when she'd reached him. "Oh, god. Is he..."

"I don't know. Tie the end off on that tree," he gestured to a sturdy cedar, "I'm going down."

Clarke wavered. Her instinct was to insist that she be the one to go down there. Her entire purpose for joining them was as a medic, wasn't it? But she knew that she'd have no chance of dragging Miller out of there, and that it would be difficult enough for Bellamy to handle it without the added strain of helping her down there, and then back up beforehand. Plus, the longer Miller stayed in the water, the colder he would get.

So Clarke did as she was told, "If it's a spinal injury," she told Bellamy, "that's bad. Check to see if his neck or back is oddly positioned or twisted in any way, and make sure his breathing isn't impaired."

"What if it is a spinal injury?"

"Then we'll only make it worse if we try to move him alone. I'll have to run back to camp and get more people to try to fashion a backboard, but..."

"But?"

"I think it would take too long. We'd risk hypothermia."

Bellamy held her gaze for a moment, and she knew that he was remembering Atom, all those months ago. His jaw tightened, and he nodded tersely, "Let's hope he's lucky then, yeah?"

Bellamy worked on tying a loop into his end of the rope and Clarke took a couple of bandages from her bag, and stepped closer to him to stuff them in his jacket pockets, "Here. Just in case he's bleeding."

Bellamy nodded and stepped into the rope, one of his hands rested on her shoulder, "I can climb down on my own, but I'll probably need your help getting back up. You up for it, Princess?"

Clarke's eyes rolled at the nickname, it had ceased to be insulting some time ago and now usually only came out when he was teasing her, or trying to irritate her into pushing farther, into pushing herself to be better. She rested her hands on his chest for a moment, hoping to reassure him, "I'll do what I can."

Bellamy gave her shoulder one last squeeze before he stepped back, and began to climb down. While the ledge was rocky, and jutted out, there was a more moderate grassy incline, dotted with trees and vines that led down to the stream. Bellamy went slowly, testing handholds, for which she was grateful. The last thing she needed was a second, larger-and-heavier-than-she, guy to rescue. When he reached the bottom he splashed into the stream and crouched next to Miller. She watched him, fingers clutched in the strap of her bag. She watched his shoulders slump, and for a second she though the worst, before he looked up and she could read the relief in his expression, "He's alive! His pulse seems strong."

She let out the breath she'd been holding. "Good. His breathing?"

Bellamy bent his head towards Miller's chest, "Even. And," she watched him feel around, "his neck and shoulder's aren't twisted at all. There's a gash on the back of his head, but it doesn't seem too deep."

Clarke let out a quick laugh, "Looks like he's pretty damn lucky, then."

Bellamy glanced at the sky when a rumble of thunder sounded, "Not lucky enough. If it starts pouring, we're not going to make it back to camp."

"I know. Did you see any shelter on the way here?"

"No," Bellamy ran a hand down his face, "these rocks are familiar, though. They're just like the caves near base camp. Maybe there's something similar nearby."

Clarke considered, the rocks did look very similar. "So, I guess we hope for the best, then?"

"Unless you have a better plan?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"I think we'll have better luck going from down here, and that way we don't have to try to get him up the slope."

"Okay."

"Climb down, we'll follow the stream."

Clarke collected Bellamy's pack and threw it across her body. She looked longingly at the deer for a moment. If they were hoping for the best she'd just have to hope no other animals scavenged it, before they could come back. At least the weather was cold enough to prevent it from spoiling too quickly. She grabbed for the rope and used it to lower herself down, managing the descent faster than Bellamy had. She'd folded herself down next to him to check Miller out, "I think you're right. I'm just worried about the head injury." She gently slapped Miller's cheek a few times, but he was out cold.

"I do love it when you say I'm right, Clarke."

"Mmm. Because it happens so rarely," she caught his eye before she placed a hand on his thigh and used it to push herself back up. "Let's get going."

They'd managed to get Miller upright, without injuring him more, and Bellamy had supported him while Clarke wrapped his head, to staunch the bleeding. It could probably do with a few stitches, but she'd worry about that once they found shelter. They'd pulled Miller's bag off of him, "I'll take it," Bellamy said.

"No," Clarke replied, and added it to the two she already carried, "I can handle it. You're going to have to handle him. He's got at least forty pound on me."

Bellamy hadn't looked happy, but he'd acquiesced and taken the bulk of Miller's weight.

Together, they'd half dragged, half carried Miller along the side of the stream. Bellamy's litany of complaints had amused Clarke more than anything (Miller, apparently, was going to need to be put on a diet, if he was going to be an asshole who needed to be dragged around like this. Miller should also expect to handle all of Bellamy's weapon cleaning duties, for at least a month, once he was better).

They'd both been breathing heavily, and struggling, when they'd mercifully come across the cave. Miller and Bellamy were roughly the same size, but the other man's dead weight had made him a difficult burden.

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, once she was inside. The cave was clear, bare of much but rocks, leaves and a couple of pieces of driftwood. It was larger than she'd expected and sloped upward so the dampness at the mouth of it wasn't a concern. She dropped two of her packs along the back wall. "Clear," she told Bellamy as she exited again. It was just beginning to drizzle, and the thunder was crashing again, so she knew she needed to hurry. She grabbed the hatchet from Bellamy's belt, "Get him inside. I'm going for firewood."

"Clarke, wait," he began to protest, but she was already scrambling up the bank toward the forest. She heard him curse her, and her stubbornness, before he began to maneuver Miller inside.

As quickly as possible she gathered all the branches that she could, bundling them into the tarp she had in her pack. Clarke could only hope the storm would be brief. She returned to the cave, just as a crack of lightening lit up the sky. Bellamy glowered at her from the circle of rocks he'd made. She rolled her eyes at him, "Stow the macho bullshit, please. We didn't have a lot of time."

"We don't know this area, Clarke. It could have been dangerous out there."

"It would have been equally dangerous for you," she pointed out, and went to set down the firewood. He'd lain Miller down, and taken off his own jacket to make a makeshift pillow.

"Not the point. You're the doctor. You should have stayed with the patient."

"I hate it when you do that!"

"Oh, I know. You're Clarke Griffin, and you don't need anybody's help, ever, least of all mine."

"I've needed your help plenty, Bellamy. I hate it when you dismiss me."

"Ha! You're crazy. I've never been able to dismiss you, even when I wanted to."

"You do it all the time. I'm just the fucking healer, to you. That's the end of my usefulness. You give me no credit..." She was cut off by a low groan from Miller, so she quickly knelt next to him, "Hey, Miller? You with us?"

"Unfortunately. You two are loud. My head is killing me."

"You hit it pretty hard, so it'll probably hurt for awhile."

"Great. Did I get the deer?"

Clarke sat back on her heels, exasperated, and Bellamy answered, a touch mockingly, "Nope. I did. I believe that puts us at Miller: 13, Bellamy: 18."

"Damn it," Miller mumbled. "I will catch up."

"So you keep saying."

"M'cold," Miller said, and then drifted off.

"Should we keep him awake?" Bellamy asked.

"No. I think he's fine to sleep. He was coherent enough. Plus, we're going to have to warm him up, and that'll be way more uncomfortable if he's awake."

Bellamy looked up from the fire he'd gotten started, "Uncomfortable, how?"

Clarke sighed, and willed herself to be professional, "His core temperature is low. I need to remove his wet clothes to bring it back up."

Bellamy grinned at her, "Feeling shy, Princess? I know for a fact you've seen a naked man before. Actually, you've seen Miller naked before haven't you? When he got wasted on Monty's 'shine and lost that bet to Monroe and had to streak around camp."

Clarke willed herself not to chuckle. She'd rarely participated in the stupid games and bets which had popped up over the long winter to chase away the boredom, but the whole camp had witnessed that, "I did see that. Poor Miller. It was really cold that night."

That startled a genuine laugh out of Bellamy, "So what's the problem?"

Clarke chewed on her lower lip, "Body heat," she stated plainly.

"Body heat..." Bellamy repeated slowly. She watched as comprehension dawned. "You're going to... With Miller! No way."

Clarke scoffed at him, "It's either you or me, Bellamy Blake. But hey, if you're volunteering. Get stripping," she gestured for him to go right ahead.

Bellamy's mouth opened and closed, and in the back of her mind she savoured his speechlessness. She watched him, waiting, but after a minute he still seemed to be unwilling to offer a counter proposal, so she began to undress Miller. She worked quickly and efficiently, and managed to roll Miller onto the tarp she'd brought the firewood in with. Bellamy built up the fire, making displeased noises all the while, but did not protest.

Clarke then pulled off her own jacket, and the worn gray sweater she wore underneath, leaving her in a threadbare tank top, that had once been pink. She used her sweater to dry Miller quickly. She turned to Bellamy, expecting him to be looking elsewhere, and barely kept a gasp of surprise from escaping when she found him looking squarely at her. At the strap of her tank that had slipped down, revealing much of her bra and the curve of her breast.

Clarke bit back a smile. She should probably be feeling a burst of modesty, right about now, but all she felt was satisfaction. If she'd doubted that Bellamy wanted her, she didn't any longer. His emotions were plain across his face, obvious in a way that they usually weren't. His expression was covetous, filled with naked lust and a pinch of jealousy. It made her feel powerful and it made her want to push him, just to see how far she could.

She tossed her sweater, and it smacked him in the face. She turned away from him slightly, tucked her face into her shoulder to hide her smile. "Spread that out, will you? Miller's stuff too, it'll dry faster."

Clarke stood, and fingered the button to her pants, Bellamy's eyes followed her movements, and he appeared to be breathing heavier than was normal. Clarke debated asking him to turn around for about half a second. But she was goading him, wasn't she? Asking him to look away would defeat the purpose.

She undid the button, and lowered her zipper. She paused and waited as his eyes tracked up her torso, lingering on her breasts, before meeting hers. She held his gaze as she toed off her boots, and she raised an eyebrow challengingly. A fleeting look of surprise crossed his face, but he read her accurately, and a hopeful anticipation chased it away. His eyes drifted over her, and he leaned back on his palms, giving her the full force of his attention. Clarke felt improbably warm under his scrutiny. But she trusted him, and she wanted this. She shimmied her hips and peeled of her pants and bent to remove them, along with her outer layer of socks. She left the second pair on, because they were dry, and the cave was cold. By the way Bellamy's eyes were lingering on her calves, he didn't seem to mind.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still gratifyingly rough, "You know, Clarke, in all of the scenarios I've thought about getting you naked, there was never another guy there."

Clarke snickered involuntarily, "I bet there was another girl in at least a few of them."

"Not as many as you'd think." Clarke stopped, her fingers poised to pull off her tank top, "I don't want to share you."

Clarke blinked at him, stunned, "Oh," she whispered. She'd been thinking that this was physical, but that statement told her she might be wrong.

He smiled at her, slowly, like a predator, and for a fleeting moment she wondered just who was pushing who. "I was willing to wait for you, because I knew you wouldn't trust it if I chased you. Spacewalker hurt you, but I'm pretty sure you're over him. You spend more time with his ex, than you do with him."

Clarke nodded, because that was the truth. "You have been paying attention."

"You knew that already. C'mon. I thought we were finally being honest here."

"I'm always honest. You should know that," she took a deep breath and pulled off her tank top, leaving her standing in front of him, in her ragged black bra and underwear and wool socks.

Bellamy made a noise, a low hum of appreciation, "You're beautiful, Clarke. And you're killing me."

Clarke took in the tension of his shoulders, the way he was leaning back on clenched fists. She pulled out the elastic that was holding her braid together and shook her hair loose around her shoulders, "I'm glad."

He made another noise, and a hoarse chuckle followed. "I know you are. Because you like it best when it's not easy. And we're never going to be easy, Princess. We'll fight."

Clarke felt her lips twist and she knew her smile was devilish, "And then we'll fuck?"

She watched his pupils dilate, before he looked away from her, "Exactly. But not right now. Because we're not alone."

"Unfortunately."

"Right. So go ahead and cuddle up to Miller. He's lucky he's my friend, otherwise I'd throw him out into the storm."

"No you wouldn't," Clarke countered, but she walked around behind Miller and laid down. She pressed himself against his back, and wrapped the tarp around them both. She watched Bellamy watch them, noted the agonized look on his face. "So when we get back to camp..."

His eyes snapped to hers, "We're going to sleep, and eat. And then we're going out again. Alone this time."

"People will talk."

"I don't care," he said evenly, "Do you?"

"No."

"Good. Once we have some privacy, we're going to talk about all of the other ways I've thought about you naked."

Clarke let out a laugh, "I've had some thoughts of my own."

"Oh?"

"Mmm hmm. Very detailed thoughts. About your hands, mostly. There are some perks to having my own tent, you know."

"Fuck, Clarke," he sounded pained.

"All in good time, Bellamy. All in good time."


End file.
